


Interview No 1573 'Karl Wallace'

by Notchbrine



Category: Christian Bible, Original Work
Genre: Demons, Horror, My First Fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2018-12-26 23:24:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12069081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notchbrine/pseuds/Notchbrine
Summary: Karl Wallace had no idea that day that his life would be changed forever when he delivered that damn parcel.This is my first story on here, so feedback and comments are greatly appreciated.





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting the scene for the interview.

The police officer looked calmly at the bedraggled, twitchy person sitting opposite him in the asylum's interview room. He knew what he was doing, he had interviewed the insane before. Little did the poor guy know that this interview was a mere legal formality. After the events surrounding....the incident, sentence was swiftly passed: life in the local lunatic asylum. The cop sighed, turned on the old tape recorder and motioned for Karl Wallace to tell his side of what happened a week before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In reality, there is no way that sentence would be passed that quickly, even in America, where this story is set. I have a reason, which will be revealed in the final chapter's notes. Any praise or criticism in the form of comments is greatly appreciated. Ideas for the future are greatly appreciated.


	2. The First Sign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl begins speaking about his side of what happened.

"The first time we tried delivering it, the lights were on in the house, but no one let us in. It was the end of my first week working at FedEx. I had just been fired from a similar job at Amazon, so getting this one when it came up was a breeze. The parcel had very specific instructions to be delivered no later than that night. It was bulky, but light. There must have been miles of bubble wrap protecting whatever was inside. But I wasn't being paid to guess at the contents of the parcels, just deliver them. It was the final job for the week, so me and Mikey, the old hand and driver, were looking forward to watching Netflix on my account for the weekend."

"The house had a weird reputation, still being owned by the infamously reclusive Washerton family who built it a hundred years ago. All food was delivered to the house and doctors came if medical help was needed. the only way a Washerton left the house was in a coffin, and even then, they would come back as ashes in a bottle. From what us delivery men had seen, they were pale, shrunken people who were only half glimpsed through cracks in the door or chinks in the thick curtains that covered every window. As I'm sure you'll understand, we didn't want to come back the next day. So we creeped up the cracked stone path again, through the creaky garden gate that no local kid would dare enter and walked through the jungle-like garden back up to the front door. We realized with a start that the front door had opened in the minute it had taken us to get back to our van, make our plan of action and return. That was the first sign that things weren't right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens.... If no one comments by, say Sunday evening, I will switch on comments from anyone, so please leave support or constructive criticism. it is much appreciated.


	3. Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some information for anyone who is still reading this.

As you may be able to tell, I have had a bit of writer's block. I have written a bit more than this, but am not sure whether to publish or not. I am looking into making a crossover with Artemis Fowl involving an OC that I am working on creating. So for now, this story is on permanent hiatus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah this story is going to remain unfinished for the time being. If you know anyone who is a good AO3 Artemis Fowl writer, please let me know so I can get in touch with them.


	4. Draft dump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one of my draft dump.

Mikey whispered to me "Karl, let's find a spot in the foyer to put the parcel and I'll write an explanatory note." I agreed and we opened the door as quietly as possible. The foyer was cramped, thanks to being most of it being taken up by rickety old dressers. the sense of claustrophobia was further enhanced by every available space on the dressers being covered with crucifixes and other religious paraphernalia. The walls were papered with faded, moldy wallpaper. the floor was covered with a dusty Persian rug that had some rust coloured stains. the stains seemed to scare Mikey, making him go as pale as a ghost. He cautiously bend down and sniffed the nearest stain. he then looked up and hoarsely whispered "Go quickly to the van and get the bat. Now. It's fresh blood." It was at that moment that things started to go downhill quickly.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Karl stopped suddenly, as if nervous about what he was about to say. The policeman reached over and squeezed his shoulder with a sweaty hand. "Take your time. I have a few hours." he said reassuringly. Karl relaxed and continued speaking.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bat in question was an old wooden baseball bat that Mikey had used as a kid. It was good for scaring away would-be robbers with knifes, but useless against a better armed person with a gun. I was only gone a minute, but when I returned, parcel under one arm and bat in the other hand, Mikey had disappeared. In his place was a typical Washerton, looking like Gollum's better dressed cousin, wearing an Oriental style robe. The strange figure hoarsely whispered "Are you Karl? Michael said Karl would be coming." I nodded slowly, keeping an eye on the mysterious figure the whole time. He, for it was a he, continued "You have my parcel? Good. Come down into the cellar so I can show you what I need it for. Michael was curious as well, I was a shame that he couldn't wait for you." I felt that if push came to shove, that I could easily defeat him. So, finding my voice, I asked "What happened with the blood stains on the carpet?" "I cut myself." was all the figure said as he motioned for me to follow. 

I carefully stepped around the stain and followed the creepy figure down a long hallway. Old oil paintings of religious scenes and Washerton's from long ago were a common sight on the old wallpapered walls. The old wooden floorboards creaked every few steps. I noticed that the only creaks came from me, my guide moving as silently as a shadow. He came to a halt in front of a door that seemed to have been originally built for a castle: thick slabs of oak planks studded with large, burnished nails. It was markedly out of place, even in this already unusual house. The figure opened the door to reveal a disappointingly ordinary staircase leading down: wooden stairs, brick walls, well lit. I put aside my previous fears, thinking them unfounded, and descended.

The descent was around two stories. As soon as I stepped off the last step, I was hit with a blast of heat from what I quickly realized was the heater room next door. The heat seemed to come from the pits of Hell. At the end of a short, anonymous corridor was another castle style door, this time with a door-knock on it. The figure knocked twice and said solemnly "The elder has returned with the outsider. We have the final piece." Before I could start having second thoughts, a disembodied voice from the other side replied "Enter. We are ready for the ceremony."

The elder opened the door and motioned for me to enter. I walked inside in a trance. I figured that must have happened because I can't remember anything happening between me being motioned in and me being inside and the elder entering, shutting the door behind him. But I do remember what the summoning room, as I will call it looked like. The walls and floors were whitewashed, glaringly white. A single lightbulb dangled from the ceiling. But it was scarcely needed as the light was provided by red, dripping tallow candles. In the middle of the room was a fire-pit, with a fire already crackling away inside. An extractor fan in the ceiling above was struggling to keep the room from becoming filled with the smoke. Then, I noticed the furniture. There were two wooden trestle tables covered with purple cloth that had animal-like bones, what I guessed were various spices and an old leather-bound book. Finally, I noticed the people. There were two people who looked like Washerton's and one I recognized: Mike. They were all dressed up in deep red monk's cowls, like those from the Middle Ages. Mike looked up and saw me. His face relaxed and he smiled warmly. "Karl!" he said, "You're just in time. The summoning is about to begin!"

A look of fear must have spread across my face, because my arms were suddenly grabbed from behind by the two Washerton's, who must have snuck up on me when I was distracted by Mike. They may have looked frail and weak, but they were as strong as pro wrestlers, able to put to an end any thought of escape. My guards turned me around to face the fire-pit as the elder walked into my frame or view. He smiled widely, revealed white, pearly teeth and said "Now, I am sure that you want an explanation into what is going on. Just let me check that the parcel has what we hope it has." As he said this, he bent down slowly and picked up the parcel from where I had dropped it when my arms were grabbed. The unwrapping wasn't the most interesting thing in the world, so I won't elaborate. Basically, when he was finished, a piece of what looked like a pig's jawbone was exposed. Everyone in the room, with the exception of me, let out a collective sigh of what seemed like relief. Unfortunately, the guards didn't loosen their grip on me, so I couldn't try and make a run for it. The elder then turned to me and said "Now for this story, I will start from the beginning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to post all of my draft, but I didn't have time so this is the first half or so and the next half will come out in the next few days, exams permitting.


	5. Draft dump part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final draft dump. I am talking to SomniumofLight about an idea that I am working on. You can view the exchange on the latest update to Potestas et Magicae if you are interested.

"Once, long ago, during the times of the New Testament, Jesus was walking around the villages of Judah, preaching the message of God. One day, He met a man in a place called Nazarene who had been driven insane by an unusual occurrence. A group of minor demons had combined their intellects and powers and became a powerful entity that called itself Legion. Now, when they saw Jesus walking up towards them, the one person who could send them to Hell forever, they knew the jig was up. They pleaded to Jesus for mercy. he told them to leave the man, go back to Hell and never enter the mortal plain again. Thinking on their feet, they left the man, separated into the individual demons and entered the bodies of a herd of pigs that were grazing near the water's edge. As soon as the last demon entered a pig, the herd as a single body rushed into the lake and drowned themselves."

"Thinking the demons had been sent back to Hell when the pigs had died, Jesus went on his way again. However, the demons had tricked him. When the pigs died, the spirits of the demons merely moved into the bones of the pigs, knowing that they would be help captive there, unable to leave without help. Jesus died on the cross, the only person who could have banished them, thinking that they were already burning in Hell. One millennia and eight centuries went by and the demons waited patiently in the bones for the right time to be released by those who worshipped them. During the early 1800's, a Washerton was touring the lands of the New Testament, when he had an overwhelming urge to dive into the lake for a swim. The urge was given by the separated collective of demons. When the Washerton had descended deep enough, they reached into his mind and made sure that he became a perfect Satanist who would ensure their return. Now, by this time, the bones had been distributed along the lakebed by waves and other natural phenomena, so the power of the entity known as Legion was greatly reduced then. I will leave it up to you to imagine how powerful Legion would be if all the bones were together and Legion was reformed."

As he uttered those last few words, a deep chill fell over me. As I mulled over those disturbing words, a few questions came to mind. As I would most likely be held captive until whatever weird thing they had planned was finished, it shouldn't do any harm to ask them, I thought. I cleared my throat to make sure that they were paying attention, then said "I can guess as to how your family got to where it is today, but I have a few questions." the elder smiled happily, as if I had said the right thing and replied in an upbeat voice "Great! It is good to see that you are attentive and maybe even cooperative." Ignoring the implications of the last part of that statement, I said "How did Mike get wrapped up in this? He doesn't look like a Washerton." "I can answer that for you." said Mike as a look of satisfaction spread across his face. "My grandfather was a Washerton who fell in love with and married a servant girl. My father was normal enough looking to live in the outside world unnoticed and Washerton enough for his descendants to participate in the rituals. Elder Ash asked me to set you up as the......centerpiece for the ritual. I made sure that you were on duty with me when the parcel was delivered. the blood on the carpet was unintended, apparently one of the acolytes had cut his hand with a knife when making a snack. It sure gave me a shock, I thought a clumsy burglar had snuck in and ruined everything!" saying the last part with a look of plain relief on his face. The realization that this had been a trap set just for me rattled me enough to push all but one final question out of my head. "Will the ritual hurt?" I asked with a noticeable waver in my voice. Elder Ash answered reassuringly "If the ritual fails, the worst that will happen is that you will get a lungful of smoke and most likely be annoyed at us. If it works however, you will become the new host of the mighty Legion." That was the final sign that I had gone too far down this sinister rabbit hole.

END OF DRAFT PROGRESS  
So after this, I wanted to do a ritual where he had to breathe in the smoke from the fire after all the pigs bones had been charred in there. The ritual partially worked, but Karl was sent into an insane killing spree, ripping the people apart with his bare hands under the influence of the jubilant free demons. He faints after leaving the house in front of police cars who were called to the scene by concerned residents (there is s point when the locals call the cops on the Washerton house). He finishes telling the story, the cop switches off his recorder and walks over to the door, all while telling Karl about the police decision to sentence him to life in the loony bin. As the manager of the lunatic asylum looks in, the cop walks back towards Karl and whispers in his ear as the manager mouth the same words in perfect timing "We are Legion." End of story. The spirit was supposed to have still been in the smoke, which then possessed several cops who entered the summoning room. They then passed the influence on.

**Author's Note:**

> in reality, there is no way that the sentence would be passed that quickly, even in America where this story is set. I have a reason as to how this has happened, which I will explain later on. Please comment and offer any suggestions about future ideas.


End file.
